


Idol Worshiping

by XxstrifexX



Series: Idol Worship [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comedy, Drama, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Romance, Series, Yaoi, ereri, numerous bad shit jokes, riren - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-26 05:27:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxstrifexX/pseuds/XxstrifexX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn't have a fucking cape and he certainly didn't have any armor or a white horse and sword. He just happened upon a drugged up brat in a bad situation and intervened like any decent human being should. How Hanji's idea of a fun little party ended up with him having being followed around but this shitty brat was just beyond him. It seems some people hadn't a prayer for a quiet peaceful existence.</p><p>Collection of One-Shots in the Idol Worship AU ~ <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dinner at Levi's

**Author's Note:**

> My Goodness I apologize for taking so long! Fall semester is well underway and it's getting harder to write between my studio classes - - That aside I'll try to rotate between stories and update as frequently as possible 
> 
> That being said nothing too intense in this part of the series - a little back story a little fluff and some potty humor and a ungodly usage of the word "shit" 
> 
> The next couple will be more focused on developing their relationship further out of the grey area as well as mixing in some more sexy time between the two because lets face it -- it's just as entertaining as Levi's poor sense of humor ~ Enjoy !

Mikasa’s suffocating overprotective-ness aside, the next couple weeks went fairly smoothly. After that night, Rivaille kept to his promise and had purchased the cup of Joes the following day. Ever since then, they had taken turns treating each other. As each day passed, he itched the entire time to get closer to the Rivaille. Despite their activities on that night, with the insinuation of said activities would progress, he hadn’t so much as gotten a kiss out of him. Whenever they walked together since then, they’re conversations came easier, but physical contact was a whole other animal. 

He assumed it wasn’t a distaste for PDA’s. He honestly couldn’t see Rivaille caring at all what others thought of him, but, he supposed, he could be wrong. And trying anything out of their norm would be a risk to their budding relationship he wasn’t willing to take, at least not in public. So, Eren humbly decided to make an offer that had no interactions with the general public what so ever. 

“Are you free tonight?” 

Rivaille glanced at him out of the corner of his eye before taking a sip from his cup. The brunette smirked, always amused at how gracefully the man could drink his coffee with such a strange hold. He had never seen anyone hold a cup the way he had. Fingers stretched across the top of the lid and thumb lingering just slightly under and to the right of where his mouth was placed. It was a wonder his fingers didn’t get in the way, though he did notice Rivaille tended to bump his nose into his fingers and in order to properly get at the liquid, he had to tilt his head back just slightly more than he would have to if he were to drink it normally. It was an odd, yet cute little quirk. 

“I suppose so,” Levi said before adding thoughtfully, “Other than expelling the contents of my colon and taking a hot shower, I don’t have anything planned.” 

Quite like this strange quirk, though it was more amusing than cute. Seriously, how many men at Rivaille’s age still talked about their bowel movements or for that matter, used it as jokes and descriptive verses? 

Eren hummed and stifled his laughter, “So shower and shit are on the list. How about dinner? I could come over and make burgers.” 

“Shit THEN shower jaeger,” Rivaille corrected with a disgusted look on his face, “have you no shame? Gross.”

This time Eren couldn’t help but laugh. Rivaille’s own eyes scrunching just slightly in his own way of amusement. Eren received a small disbelieving huff the brunette considered as close to laughter as he would get, at least for that one. 

“So is that a yes or no? I can pick up the food on the way over.” 

“Any mess you make you’d be responsible for, and the cleaning needs to be to my standard. None of that,” at this Rivaille dropped his voice in a poor imitation of Eren, “’But Rivaille I already cleaned it’, bullshit.” 

The kid certainly was still just as indifferent to his harshness as ever, perhaps even more so now days. 

“Of course.” 

Eren grinned as he leaned to Rivaille’s ear, hot breath causing a small shudder despite his efforts to suppress it, “If it’s not up to your standards you could punish me for insubordination.” 

Rivaille managed to school his expression back to its usual nonchalance before Eren could see it. As he stood back up straight, continuing to walk casually at his side, as if he hadn't just thrown that evocative sentence to run circles in his head. 

“9:30 sharp Jaeger.” 

The kid was just way too pleased with himself as he parted ways with him. The ear to ear, wide and bright smile making his own half assed grin to pull at his cheek. 

(＃´ー´)旦 (＃´ー´)旦 (＃´ー´)旦 (＃´ー´)旦 (＃´ー´)旦

Eren chewed at the base of his left palm, just under his thumb, for the umpteenth time. Holding his basket for groceries in his right, he stared at the produce section in frustration. He said burgers. It seemed like a simple alternative to actually cooking anything too complicated, but the fact remained, he didn’t want to just throw some ground beef on a pan and call it a day. He wanted to make the best damn burgers Rivaille ever had and there in lie the problem.

Eren was a terrible cook. He could easy mac, he could TV-dinner, he could even toaster oven the shit out of frozen appetizers, but cooking? 

He could probably pick up a bottle of something as well, after all, everything tasted better when you drank. Though, Eren frowned at this, it wouldn’t really benefit him, he wouldn’t be drinking at all. Rivaille had been very specific that night about his stance on Eren being under any influence, no matter how small. 

Honestly it was relieving and heartwarming as it was downright maddening. Rivaille lavished him with so much attention selflessly, and he wanted so badly to return the favor; show Rivaille just how much he appreciated him. Rivaille, however, had been adamant and his resolve was unshakable. Eren supposed it was one of the many things he respected about the older male. 

Backtracking in thought, Eren licked his dry lips thinking about how Rivaille had taken care of the both of them that night. The idea of Rivaille touching himself, bringing himself to the edge and over while simultaneously moaning around his…….

“Ingredients! Ingredients!” 

Eren shouted to himself aloud, blushing and very much looking like a mad man as he laughed at himself to cover up his own thoughts. He shrank a little when he realized he gained more than a few stares from passing, customers murmuring none to softly. To add insult to injury, he overheard a little boy not but a few feet away tugging on his mother’s skirt, pointing and laughing as he exclaimed, “Mommy that guys funny! He’s laughing all by himself!” 

The brunette straightened his posture and cleared his throat as he tried to regain any little dignity he hadn’t just shucked out the window. Quickening his pace, he himself back on the task to uncover the needed groceries for the meal. 

After picking up tomatoes, onions, chives, the ground beef, and a bag of sweet potato fries from the freezer aisle, Eren made his way to the counter. With the cash registers in sight he marched towards them, eyes glancing sideways into the aisles as he passed by, just in case he forgot something or could think of something else to buy. 

That’s when he hesitated, foot stopping mid-air and momentarily lingering, before it met the ground with a snap. He froze, eyes wide on the aisle before him. Taking a large gulp, he glanced left and right before directing his march in front of the shelves. Specifically, the shelves occupying a two by two foot square space masked by feminine products and razors. 

He wasn’t sure why he stopped to consider the small brightly colored boxes with bold and ludicrous phrases. Tonight was a simple dinner, and nothing in the past couple weeks alluded to this even being considered a date night, let alone one that might require such devices. 

He mulled over the pros and cons of just buying a pack for the sake of having them. Eyes browsing over the shelf a bit longer and he even considered purchasing one of those bottles tucked underneath the hanging boxes as well. He more than likely wouldn’t use them, but he didn’t have any in case he would need them, later on of course. Yeah, made sense, better safe than sorry. 

Finally at the register, he placed the meat and produce down on the conveyor belt, hesitating to put down his last two items. The eighty something granny smiling at him in line was certainly not helping. Especially not while she fawned over him along with the cashier, going on to say what a charming young man he seemed. 

Yes, charming. Just as charming as the strawberry flavored lubricant and variety 12 pack condoms he was currently hiding behind his back while sheepishly scratching his head. 

His mortification didn’t end there. Rather than leave the old woman took her time gathering her bags in her cart. 

“Oh, planning on making dinner, such a good boy. You know, I wish I could get my husband to make me dinner every now and again. Does wonders, make sure you cook for your girlfriend. Women love a man who can cook you see.” 

Eren nodded a bit flustered, stuttering as the cashier spoke up.

“You gonna pay for those too or you planning on putting them back?”

The knowing look on the cashier's was not helping his nerves. Was she doing this shit on purpose? Was spontaneous combustion a thing? For Eren, he couldn't help but think how amazing it would be for that to happen right now, to avoid the sweet old lady, still staring at him, from seeing his last two incriminating items behind his back. 

“I-uh that is,” he looked back and forth between the cashier and the sweet old lady smiling back at him. 

“Well?”

“Uh... yes, sorry,” he stumbled out hastily as he all but flung the two offending items out of his hands and onto the belt in a stiff motion. Eren forced himself to stare at the two items that continued to shrink him in on himself. The cashier snickered and rang them up while a soft voice giggled behind a wrinkled hand. 

“Oh my dear, you’re going to have to try to cook something a little more elaborate than hamburgers if you plan on using those anytime soon.” 

Mouth just as wide as his eyes and the cashier’s unfiltered laughter in his ear, he didn’t think it was possible to blush any harder as the old woman winked at him and walked away. 

 

(＃´ー´)旦 (＃´ー´)旦 (＃´ー´)旦 (＃´ー´)旦 

 

A knock at his door had Rivaille calling out for the guest to enter from the other room. Eren opened the door cautiously and offered a small greeting, still a bit shell shocked and timid from his experience at the store. He carefully toed off his shoes, making his way to the kitchen and setting down the plastic bags. He glanced over the few cabinets and drawers, debating whether or not to attempt at finding what he needed to start, but thought better of it before he dove into the project prematurely. The last thing he wanted to do was piss Rivaille off by making a mess of his organized kitchen. 

The brunette turned at the sound of Rivaille’s feet padding against the tiles. A damp towel rested around his neck, one end held in hand while the other gently dried his undercut hair. Eren’s once tense shoulders softened as his eyes, without hesitation or shame, took in the sight of the shorter man’s bare torso and chest. He dare say he was even a bit jealous as he drank in the sight, but the stirring in his gut and the memories of the last time he saw Rivaille’s defined abdomen overrode those with a pang of lust. 

‘…you’re going to have to try to cook something a little more elaborate than hamburgers if you plan on using those anytime soon’

Eren’s face immediately fell as he recalled the upturn of that old woman’s lips, the reiteration of her words in his head tempting him to punch his own stomach to get rid of the uncomfortable knot that just formed. Rivaille only raised a brow at his odd shift of expression.

“I’m not sure if I want to ask why your face transitioned between ‘Holy shit I’m constipated’, to ‘Thank god the gas pains over’, to ‘Holy shit, I shit my pants.’” 

“I-I didn’t shit my pants!” 

“I’m not saying you did,” Rivaille amended though he tilted his head to the side, “but seriously, the look on your face, I swear it’s the expression of someone who hasn’t taken a shit for weeks. What did I miss?”

Eren weighed his options here. Tell Rivaille about the old woman’s comment and end up admitting he bought lube and condoms? Wait… he didn’t need to weigh anything, there was no fucking away he was going to tread into that territory. 

“Nothing, nothing happened. Nothing at all.”

Rivaille made a silently ‘O’ with his mouth, as if in understanding, before crossing his arms over his chest. 

“So, then it was just the sight of me that evoked such an expression,” Rivaille teased further, “I knew, for you at least, I cause symptoms of diarrhea of the mouth, but I can’t say I’ve ever afflicted someone with constipation before.”

It was nice to push the kid out of his comfort zone. It wasn’t very easy to get him flustered, and the majority of the time he was unfazed by even his rudest comments. Hell, he was surprised he was even getting the kid sputtering over his potty humor at the moment. Usually, Eren's amazement of how many ways he could find use for shit in everyday conversation, did little more than humor him. Apparently, something worth hearing about happened, though, he recognized any attempt to squeeze it out of Eren now would not only be tedious but probably pointless as well. Perhaps after dinner, speaking of which. 

Rivaille moved to grab the necessary items and placed them on the counter before sitting down in his small table. Eren glanced over and blinked while pointing to himself.

“You don’t want to help me?”

“I just got out of the shower.” 

Eren waited a few seconds before realizing that was probably the best explanation he would receive and just nodded his head. He pulled the ingredients out of the bag and made to prepare them but Rivaille spoke up to stop him.

“Wash your hands first brat.”

Hazel eyes chuckled back at him as the brunette shook his head complying just the same, “I swear you have OCD.”

“My apologies, I’m not so thrilled at the aspect of someone not washing their hands before touching my food. The same hand, mind you, you’re going to use to prep that food is the same hand you use to wipe your ass. It’s just a bit disheartening, especially when that someone looks like he either needed to or already did take an explosive shit.”

“You’re still hungry after that thought process,” Eren asked toweling off his hands with a disbelieving grin.

Rivaille, as nonchalant as he had spoken and without even a hint of change in his neutral expression just shrugged motioning to the counter.

“Starved, actually.”

“Right, I’ll have this done in a jiff. In the mean time, I bought some Kahlua and bailey’s if you want a coffee?” 

Coffee seemed to be the magic word as Rivaille stood up almost immediately and set to make a brew. 

“You want a cup Jaegar?”

“No, no, I’m fine. I don’t think I’ll drink tonight.” 

Rivaille just nodded. Whether or not he saw through Eren’s reasoning or not he didn’t dwell on it. Today had already been embarrassing enough as is. 

Eren busied himself with chopping the tomato and chives as Levi sipped at his spiked coffee with a hum of satisfaction every so often. Eren smiled as he continued to prep finally falling back into a comfortable mood, old perverted ladies and bad grocery encounters aside.

“Mikasa has been hounding me lately, more so than usual anyway.”

“That so?”

Eren nodded silently but ticked his tongue as he thought back on his sibling’s behavior as of late.

“It’s strange though, she’s usually not 'this' overbearing. I don’t get why you two don’t seem to get along or why she feels the need to intrude on my hanging out with you.” 

“If you’re looking for some over dramatized story about our past you’ll be sorely disappointed. It’s not hard to believe that we simply don’t mesh at all. It’s not that she’s someone I dislike, I dislike her company yes, but I don’t have any strong feelings of her either way.”

Eren’s smile grew, slightly relieved that there was at least no real reason for the animosity between the two. 

“I’m glad.”

“You’re glad,” Rivaille started skeptically in question, waiting for Eren to finish his sentence.

“Mikasa’s,” he thought on it briefly before concluding proudly, “Well, she's my only sister, she’s family.”

“What about your parents?”

It was a question that bothered the raven ever since Hanji eluded to something unspoken the night Rivaille took Eren home for the first time. 

Eren’s hand paused as his body stiffened for a brief second before he quickened his pace by grabbing an onion in favor of keeping himself occupied. Rivaille was never usually one to become curious. He almost regretted asking the question at how visibly Eren responded to it, but he was indeed curious. 

“My parents… there not really around anymore.” 

Rivaille sipped at his cup and adverted his eyes, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Eren turned around slowly, letting the knife drop on the counter and leaned back against it, hands braced behind him on either side of the fake granite. 

“My father's still alive,” Eren started carefully, “It’s just, do to circumstances we don’t see him anymore.” 

Rivaille nodded staring down into his cup at the light caramel colored liquid, “Is it too forward of me to ask another question?”

“I don't mind. Go ahead.”

Rivaille glanced over at Eren’s strained smile, surprised at how much it made his chest tighten. Never the less he continued, trying to soften his expression as best he could.

“Mikasa,” Rivaille contemplated on his words, “Is she blood related?” 

Eren’s lips pulled a little tighter in his smile, as if fighting the urge to drop into a frown, “Only half.” 

Eren looked up to the ceiling and closed his eyes, Rivaille taking the time to admire the way his neck pulled at the movement in spite of the tense atmosphere. He didn’t bother to pry any further, if Eren wanted to offer an explanation into details he would, if not it was probably for a reason. 

“Mikasa’s mother was a widow, her husband was under my father’s care at the time of his death. My father, he had been their family doctor for quite some time. Apparently, at some point in time after his death my father 'comforted' her.” 

the way he stressed the word comfort was a telling and Rivaille could quickly begin to fill in the blanks. Eren must have known this because he waited for affirmation of his understanding.

“So then Mikasa’s your father’s daughter?”

“Yeah, she is. My father took her home after she was born. Her mother passed away during delivery. Some sort of complication during the birth, I don’t know the specifics.”

Eren cleared his throat and turned back to the onion quickly finishing up with it and tossing it in the bowl with the meat and veggies. 

“It was pretty devastating news for my mother. They always had a strained relationship, my parents, but she truly did love my father. It was a bit too much for her. She died not too long after Mikasa was born.”

“She fell ill?”

“She took her life.”

Rivaille didn’t miss how quickly he responded nor the crack in his voice and silently cursed his own curiosity. He knew, now, why Hanji had looked so forlorn when she said not to worry about meeting his parents. He didn’t really know how to respond to any of these revelations. He didn’t find it appropriate to apologize, nor did he think it was worthwhile to dig up any other buried emotions by reminding Eren further of his losses. Instead, he opted for a change of pace.

Stepping up from his chair he stood behind Eren, winding his arms around the thin waist, a little perturbed that had he laid his head against his back, his cheek would be neatly placed in between the giant’s shoulder blades. 

“I have a brooch that I keep pinned to a ribbon around the vase in the bedroom.”

Eren thought for a moment and turned his head in a vain attempt to look back at Rivaille, “The one with the red poppies?”

“I’m not sure if that should worry me that you remember such a detail after one night, unless…” Rivaille leaned back eyeing him suspiciously in humor, “You’re not peeking through my windows or anything are you? Creeper.”

Eren just chuckled softly, “I’d let myself in before I’d even consider sitting outside in the cold to spy on you.”

“Ho, I see. Though you won’t hear anything surprising with your ear pressed against my door at night.”

He then added as an afterthought.

“Unless you pressed your ear to my bathroom door during a late night shit.”

“Very eloquent Rivaille.”

“Not sure if that’s the word I’d use to describe defecation,” Rivaille mused. 

Eren only laughed and shook his head. Rivaille detaching himself in favor of stepping back and glancing over the younger man. 

“Your eyes are tearing.”

Eren blinked and sniffed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, which only made it worse as he yelped, “Ah god the onions!” 

Rivaille hid his chuckle and directed Eren to the bathroom, telling him to wash out his eyes in the sink with a comment of, ‘senseless brat.’ 

Once Eren returned, the bangs of his hair slightly wet from washing his face, they finished up their first round of burgers and fries, with Rivaille cooking and Eren setting up the table. It was late after they finished but Rivaille was still a bit hungry, not even the least bit tired, and prompted Eren to cook up another two burgers for them while he fished out a movie. 

Kneeling on the floor Rivaille pressed the DVD into his player and nearly took off his head when he jolted at the sound of the fire alarm going off in his kitchen. He cursed as he stalked back into the kitchen to find Eren ripping the pan off the stove and shoving it into his kitchen sink with the water rushing over it with a hiss and dying off sizzle. Eren nervously apologized at the glare he received from the shorter male. Eren thanked the heavens the smoke alarm died off with a high pitched whine. 

It was amazing how someone of his stature could have the same paralyzing effect of a grizzly bear about to tear you to shreds. 

“Eren.”

“Yeah?”

“Please, explain to me why my burger looks like water logged, deep-fried shit?”

He dodged, “You’ve said ‘shit’ an awful lot tonight.”

“That so?”

“We still have sweet potato fries,” he offered before they got back on track. 

Thankfully Rivaille retreated and waved for him to follow, “Hurry up and grab them the movie’s starting. You’ll be cleaning that up later.”

“Of course,” Eren grinned as he grabbed the fresh plate of fries and followed Rivaille into the living room. 

“By the way, what the hell had you so flustered when you first got here?” 

Rivaille had to pound the back of Eren’s back to get him to spit out the fry he choked on.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't apologize enough for the slow updates. I've literally had little to no time to really sit down and write ( honestly it's killing me!! ) -- Thank you for being patient with me and a huge thank you to all the wonderful words of encouragement ! I hope to continue to entertain you guys!~ <3

If you asked him if he was annoyed, he would deny it. If you asked him if he was even remotely upset, he would deny that too. You would not get him to admit, not even in the slightest, that he missed the warm cup of coffee, which was supposed to be resting in his chilled hands. Nor, would you be able to get him to admit that, yes, he indeed missed the negligent brat’s company on this particular day. 

The sound of his footfalls were not mimicked alongside of him. The simple fact that he noticed such an absurd thing only served to aggravate him further, again, not that he’d admit that. He adjusted his collar to fit slightly over his mouth and licked his dry lips. The wind was bitter cold, and of all days this had to be the day the brat didn’t force at 24oz hot beverage of the gods into his hands. One of which, he was very much fucking craving now. Caffeine dependency was a terrible disease. A disease in the form of delicious foaming soy milk and espresso with a splash of salted caramel and shit, he needed one now, and that’s why he was scowling. He was scowling behind the zipper of his collar jacket because, god dammit Jaeger, he missed his one joy of the day before punching in at work. 

Yeah, he missed the coffee, not the Jaeger. 

Though, he could admit it was uncomfortably quiet. Usually, he would be preoccupied. He hadn’t the need to worry about what to do with himself, on this seemingly endless walk. Did it always take this long to get there? Perhaps the brat made the time flow faster? It wasn’t like the minor irritation was that bad after all. Why was he putting so much thought into this? 

He was delirious. It was all do to the lack of caffeine. Therefore, he needed to get his own cup of liquid energy. He made sure to arrive early to work every day, so punctuality wouldn’t be a problem. At worst, he would arrive on time. A half nod to himself and he crossed the street and turned the corner to get to the nearest Starbucks.   
He had to fight the urge to tap his foot impatiently or clear his throat loudly enough for the two teens, who obviously, had no issues with playing grab ass in line, to hear him and get the hint. Hadn’t anyone any decency to consider their surroundings? Apparently, that was asking too much. Rivaille ran a hand over his face, through his hair, and back to his neck, where he massaged roughly to keep his growing irritation in check. He diverted his eyes from the two gropers in front of him and glanced about the room for a distraction, and oh, did he ever receive one.

Speaking of fondlers. 

There was no way he would mistake that ridiculous two toned hairstyle. This day was just getting better and better. The kid seemed to be sitting by himself. He was constantly turning the screen of his phone on and off, checking or just trying to occupy himself, he wasn’t really sure. Jean, if he recalled properly, had his chin pressed against the palm of his hand as he fiddled with his mobile device. He looked like he sighed, he stretched, then he looked around, and, finally, their eyes locked. Shock wrote itself all over the poor bastards face before he snapped his head away and took a swig of his coffee, far too quickly, in a truly pointless attempt at pretending he hadn’t seen Rivaille. 

Now, perhaps it was his cynical side acting up, that sadist little whisper of potential elation at acquiring a victim for torture. He was in a rather shitty mood after all, and granted, he probably did owe this kid a, somewhat, apology for knocking him around at the bar, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t provide himself with a little bit of entertainment to lighten his mood first and foremost. 

He was finally called up to the register. He probably had a rather fiendish grin eating at the corner of his lips, he was sure, if the nervous, fidgeting cashier was anything to go by. Coffee ordered and coffee paid for, he leaned against the other end of the counter to wait for his order, purposely keeping his eyes trained on Jean. The kid visibly cringed, probably feeling a chill up his spine from the way he was staring at him.

Jean braved a peek over to the counter, flushing further, when he realized Rivaille was openly staring at him. Was that a smirk? He was screwed and he knew it. He sat a little taller in his seat and tried not to appear like he just shat himself, but to Rivaille, he just looked like he had shit himself a three inch booster seat. 

Coffee acquired. Now, time to get this kid a chance to wipe his ass clean. 

On any other day, he would’ve been content just unnerving the guy, but today. Oh, it was just one of those kind of days. 

As Jean rattled off on his phone, presumably sending a text of his impending doom, he made his way over to his table and pulled out a seat. He made sure the motion caused a shriek, the legs of the chair scraping against the tiles in a drawn out, obnoxious manner, that had the kid wincing as he took his seat. Getting comfortable, Rivaille took a small sip of his coffee with a satisfied hum. 

It seemed like Jean had tucked away his phone and made an attempt to wear his big boy pants, trying to act nonchalant, as if Rivaille’s presence had never affected him in the first place. He wondered how long it would take, before the set jaw in front of his eyes, started flapping. His lips were still, just barely, upturned in silent amusement. Turns out, he didn’t have to wait long at all. 

“Look, If this is about the bar…”

Rivaille put up his hand to silence the kid, taking a sip of his coffee before interrupting him further. 

“I just thought I’d say Hello.”

“Why would you say ‘Hello’ to someone you’ve met once?” 

Oh, that tone. Sarcastic, catty, and exactly what he expected. 

“On not so quite ideal terms,” Rivaille added for him, setting his cheek in the palm of his hand. His opposite resting on top of his coffee, index finger thumping against the cardboard cup. 

“Right,” Jean glared suspiciously, “Exactly.”

“Exactly,” he repeated monotonously, “I had to go out of my way to get my coffee this morning. Apparently, the brat forgot it was his turn to buy. It’s odd though,” Rivaille murmured.

Jean looked at his expectantly as he paused. It was amusing, the way he leaned forward with his hands clenched under the table, more than likely, wishing the conversation would end quickly. Unfortunately for him, Rivaille had a little more time to kill before work. 

Rivaille’s features pinched in thought, eyes on the table for a few moments longer before looking back up to meet Jean’s eyes. 

“This brat’s been practically stalking me since we met, yet I haven’t seen nor received a word from him at all today. Maybe he’s been taking the world’s longest shit.” 

Jean just stared incredulously. He obviously didn’t share his appreciation of fecal comedy. 

“That was a joke.”

Jean stared for a moment longer and Rivaille sighed. So much for that. He hadn’t really planned on apologizing anyway, and really, now that he thought about it, the conversation really was pointless. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but not having the brat talking his ear off for his walk left some kind of human interaction to be desired. And as humorous as it was to see the horse squatter uncomfortable, he was hoping he could reconcile, albeit without coming right out and saying it. To be fair, he was never exactly a socialite to begin with, and why he now craved some sort of dialogue.... 

Well, to be honest, and again, not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but he knew he didn’t want to hold any conversation, he wanted to talk to Eren. The fact that the brat kept popping up in his thoughts made him scowl a bit, trying to shake off the thought. Shifting off the stool, he dusted the imaginary dust off his pants, and grabbed his coffee regarding Jean with a half nod.

“Try not to grope anymore innocent bystanders, kid. Gives people the wrong impression.”

He barely made it half way to the door when a hand grabbed his elbow with a rushed ‘Wait’ reaching his ears. This mule was just lucky no coffee split on his jacket from the jerky movement, else he would have surely snapped his arm in half without hesitation this time around.

“What the hell…”

“Thank you.”

Rivaille raised a brow trying to catch up with the gerbil running in the two toned follicle covered skull. 

“I would assume my statement were more common sense than advice, but whatever. Sure, your welcome and let go.”

Jean flinched his hand back, catching it in his own and rubbing it as he spoke again to keep Rivaille from leaving. 

“Not that,” he exclaimed then lowered his voice to a more reasonable level. To which Rivaille was grateful. He didn’t feel it necessary to have to explain to a twenty something old kid what an inside voice was. 

“Care to explain so I can leave, or are you going to continue to waste my time?” 

Jean clenched his teeth but reached up to massage his temples, biting back a snide remark, eyes pinched together in aggravation, none the less.

“I just… Look. I want to thank you for looking out for Eren. We don’t always get along, trust me, the guys a stubborn block head, and I swear he literally can only see one path and always blindly follows it. He rushes into things, he doesn’t give them too much thought, he just has a one track mind kind guy alright?”

Rivaille crossed his arms, being careful to hold his coffee between his fingertips.

“I figured that much out myself, though I’m still lost as to why you’re thanking me.”

“You care about him.” 

Rivaille was surprised at the accusation. More so, just because it was thrown at his face than anything else, but he fixed his expression as quickly as it was overrun. Friendship and sexual attraction were one thing, but caring? Just what was he implying here? 

Ok, so since that night he brought Eren home from the bar, he had contemplated what the exact implications were behind it. Why his emotions went on a rampage in the first place was a pretty good indication that he took some level of concern over the kid. So, sure, he cared, of course he did. To what extent, however, was another story, and the main reason he had kept Eren at somewhat of a physical distance as of late. 

He was conflicted with that night and the implications behind his words after he dropped Eren off at home. He liked things to be organized, clean, and precise to a T. Whatever it was that Eren and himself had, was anything but that. It was sloppy, impulsive; a maze of innuendoes and frustration. He couldn’t make heads or tails about why the brat did what he did, and even more beyond his comprehension, why he continuously went along with it. Hell, half the time he encourages it, and still he does, but this squatting horse in front of him doesn’t need to know that much. 

“As a friend should,” Rivaille drawled out in a dull tone checking his watch. If he didn’t leave soon, it was possible he would be late. He was never late; completely unacceptable. 

“If you’re quite fin…”

Jean scoffed with a disbelieving smirk crossing his features.

“As a friend? Are you kidding me? A ‘friend’ doesn’t nearly snap a guy’s arm in half for leaning on ‘his’ friend’s shoulder.”

Rivaille’s eyes simply narrowed, his mood darkening. This idiot was just as bold as Eren, but not nearly as bright when it came to dealing with Rivaille.

“It’s intriguing.”

“What is?”

“I imagine your large intestine continuously deposits directly in that empty skull of yours, gives a whole new level to the phrase shit for brains. It’s practically oozing out your ears, and apparently flowing out of that trap you call a mouth.”

‘Fucking asshole’, was barely above a whisper, but it caught Rivaille’s ears none the less and he allowed it. It just proved he managed to get under his skin, and that alone was enough. 

Jean’s fists tightened at his sides.

Rivaille, noticing, this delicately arched his right brow with a smug ‘hmpf’. Rather than lash out, as Rivaille had anticipated he would, Jean dug into his pocket grumbling. He pulled out his wallet, and extracted a scrap of folded paper from amongst the bills. Quickly opening and closing it back up, Jean shoves the piece of worn parchment into Rivaille’s chest. Or, he at least tries. Rivaille catches his hand before it could make contact and Jean chooses to drop the paper into his possession, rather than retaliate further. 

As he bumps his shoulder past Rivaille, making his way back to his table, he mutters through his teeth. Something about already having it in his phone and ‘if it weren’t for Eren’. Rivaille shakes his head with a sigh and leaves to head to work.   
He waits until the tiny, chiming bell fades in the background, making his way further down the sidewalk before bothering to even glance at his hand. 

Pulling the paper in front of his eyes he debates ripping it up, but curiosity gets the better of him. Peeling the folded pieces back, carefully, he finds sloppy, faded scribbles of graphite numbers alongside an all caps ‘EREN’ in the bottom corner. 

Why would Jean bother giving Eren’s number to him anyway? Fuck it. Saved him the trouble of having to wait to lecture the brat on getting someone addicted to caffeine and skipping out on the day ‘he’ was supposed to buy. Though he doubted it was without reason, but whatever the reason, he would still find a way to tease the brat. 

He really didn’t have any time to think further about it. Tossing the half empty cup into the trash, he rounded the corner, the prospect of being late increasingly souring his mood, he would have to deal with the brat later.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Throughout his shift, he found himself glancing at the entrance every so often. Partly expecting the brunette to burst in with some type of story for missing him this morning. It didn’t go unnoticed by his co-worker, who took every opportunity to ask who he was waiting for, knowing damn well who he was referring to. 

He wasn’t waiting. If anything, he just felt it was just like Eren, to make an entrance. It wasn’t because he wanted him to, not really. He supposed it wouldn’t be so bad if he at least showed up at the end of his shift. Well, now he was just contradicting himself. 

Jean’s declared statement echoed in his thoughts and he found himself mixing the next few rounds of drinks with much more vigor than before.

‘You care about him.’ 

The entire night, up until he walked out into the chilled night air, he reflected on every instance, thus far, he shared with the brat. Every interaction and every event that transpired between the two, the way they affected him and the way they both responded. It really wasn’t as hard to discover what he already knew to be true, the trouble was admitting it. 

The trouble was admitting that, somewhere along the line, the frail mess he found, damn near drowned, in a shower, transformed from a stalker-esque nuisance, to someone he actually liked being around. 

Eren was stubborn, and his determination in everything he did, confident or not, stood out to Rivaille. He was clumsy but with a bit of charm, a contrasting mess of awkward and natural; carefree and tense; oblivious and aware. His personality a push and pull between opposites constantly battling over his mannerisms, words and decisions. But one thing remained consistent other than his steadfast determination, his loyalty. 

And physically…

There was no doubt in his mind they weren’t compatible there. Rather, perhaps too much so, and perhaps that was the exact reason he remained so cautious with Eren since that night. He didn’t have it in himself to lead someone like Eren on. He wanted to make sure that the way he felt was genuine, sincere. On top of that, the simple fact that he was almost frightened, in a way, of his own desire. 

It always remained, in the back of his mind, the circumstances of how he first met Eren. He didn’t know what happened to land the kid there, but this irrational fear that he, himself, could end up going too far lingered. There was no way he would ever put Eren in such a state, haze, drug, or whatever; that wasn’t it. He would never voluntarily force the brat into anything he didn’t want, but the fact remained, lust and temptation were dangerous entities. 

Having tasted him, he wanted to taste more. Having touched him, he wanted to run his fingers and tongue to trace every inch of him. It took all his will power to deny himself the privilege of experiencing more, taking more, giving more. He was resolute that night in not divulging too much and held himself back. If he had even given Eren an inch, literally or figuratively speaking, he would have come undone right then and there; having no promise over his own self-control. 

And while his physical sexual tension was not a question at all, how much he felt for him was, but now he didn’t have a doubt in his mind about it. He couldn’t promise it was anything as strong as love, having never really fallen in love before, but he liked him enough to know that he didn’t like when he didn’t see Eren, he didn’t like when he couldn’t hear his voice, and he hated when other people touched Eren. The possessive nature couldn’t be a more obvious highlight to where his affections lie. 

His hand, warm inside the pocket of his coat, tapped the plastic case of his phone. His opposite hand, buried in the other pocket, twirling the folded paper in-between his fingertips. Granted, he should probably wait to call the brat, thinking about him this much in one day was equivalent to feeling constipated and it was time to shit this one out. 

He paused in his steps to pull both items out and dial the number. After the first three rings, Rivaille doubted himself, it was silly to get this bent over one day of not seeing the kid. On the fourth ring, he reaffirmed for himself that he just wanted to make sure he was alright and he just missed their walk for some stupid asinine reason. On the sixth ring, he felt a little worried. He was being ridiculous. Why should he be worried? So the kid didn’t answer his phone. It might be a home phone and not his cell. He might be in the shower, sleeping, or out for the evening. There was no reason to be worried of all things. 

He didn’t realize he was holding his breath till the line clicked and a wheeze of breath and a muffled ‘Hello’ answered the call. He opened his mouth to make a snide comment about being lazy and sleeping in but it stopped short of leaving his throat. He’d never called before, and surely Eren didn’t have his number. For some strange reason it left his mind to go blank, at a loss for words. 

“Hello?”

A pause. 

“Who is this?”

He didn’t sound right to Rivaille. His breath was labored, his throat sounded pinched; the words raspy and low. Was he sick? He was fine the day before. Did something else happen?

His brain ticked off scenarios left and right, all of them unfavorable. 

“Where are you Brat?”

“Who the fu-… Rivaille? How’d you get this number?”

“Never mind that, where are you?”

“Home….Why?” 

Eren chuckled softly into the receiver, but the sound was anything but pleasant. It was off, he sounded awful. 

“Is Mikasa home?”

“Huh? No, why?”

“I’m headed over. Now, would you care to explain to me why it is you sound like you were hit by a truck full of shit.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Forty minutes later, Rivaille found himself entering Eren’s home. After a short knock at the door, he had let himself in. Upon walking into Eren’s room, he took in the small space. He hadn’t really paid it any attention before. The first, and only time he entered the home being when he dropped off a still slightly sluggish and drugged brat. The flooring was a pale hardwood, a round rug in the center with a stand up lamp in the corner of the room and a desk next to the bed, which sat under the window, and took up the majority of the space. The walls were white, with a surprising lack of color and the solitary rectangular window in the room, oddly enough, held a running A/C pumping out cold air. Despite that, the temperature was moderate at best. 

For someone like Eren it seemed odd, it was just too plain. 

He didn’t bother to glance around any further, spotting the curled up lump on the bed, Rivaille sighed, toeing off his shoes and taking the few steps over to the mattress. Sitting down, he pulled back the blanket enough to see the damp, brown hair messily scattered across the pillow. 

“Hey brat,” Rivaille spoke up, softly despite himself, “You better have unlocked the door after I called. Anyone could waltz in here.”

“S’fine. You worry too much.”

Through his muffled voice he chuckled. Rivaille noted that he sounded much worse in person than he did over the phone, and with that he frowned.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Eren continued to chuckle, “S’nice.”

Rivaille reached out and brushed Eren’s bangs back as he felt his forehead. Even before actually touching the clammy skin, he realized he was alarmingly hot. Not just warm, he was completely burning up.

“Jesus Christ Eren,” he muttered under his breath, “Did you check your temperature?”

“Didn’t wanna get up,” Eren groaned. His head was pounding, his body felt heavy, and all he wanted to do was rest. He was so sleepy….

“Come on, where’s your bathroom,” Rivaille ripped off the covers and forced his arms under Eren’s body, lifting the taller male up in a bridal like fashion. He sputtered, which ended up as a coughing fit, before finally regaining composure he directs him down the hall to the last door on the right.

Entering the bathroom he kicks the seat down and sits the brunette down on the pot before rummaging through his medicine cabinet for a thermometer. Rather than complain, Eren slumped a little with a sigh and pouted. Finding what he was looking for Rivaille popped the thermometer into Eren’s mouth, without warning.

“I seriously hope, for your sake, that thermometer has only been for oral use.”

Eren made a move like he was going to speak and Rivaille immediately told him to keep his mouth shut so he could get a read on his temperature. Complying, Eren slumped to the side, resting his elbow on the nearby vanity sink and plopping his head sideways against it with a huff of air from his nose.

A moment later, it beeped, and Rivaille read the temp. Wasting no time in turning around and pulling back the shower curtain to turn on the cold water.

“We need to bring your fever down. Hurry up and strip kid.”

“Stop that. Calling me a kid…”

“Strip Eren.”

With a grumble Eren complied, “How high was’it?”

He, apparently, wasn’t moving fast enough for Rivaille, who took it upon himself to help Eren get out of the rest of his clothes and quickly guide him into the cold shower. 

“F-F-Fuck! It’s cold!”

“That’s the point moron, had you checked earlier, you would have realized you were running a 102 fever. Why didn’t you call someone?” 

“I didn’t realize,” Eren whined as he slowly adjusted to the cool spray. He idly wondered if the water was all that cold to begin with. Maybe his body was just so hot that the initial feeling of the water was exaggerated. After a couple minutes he began to relax. His mind gained a little more clarity, and this time it was his cheeks burning, the situation finally dawning on him. 

Rivaille was at his house… Rivaille was fretting over him. Rivaille was in his bathroom, with him, he was naked, this was… awkward. The unanswered question from earlier bothered him still, so he asked again. 

“How did you get my number anyway?”

Rivaille placed the thermometer under his tongue for the second time, and this time, Eren couldn’t not notice how close they were. Height was certainly a blessed thing. At this angle, he couldn’t help but appreciate the delicate slope of Rivaille’s nose. It was impossible straight, slightly narrow, but not large by any means. Sitting above it, were two upturned brows, he was concentrating or thinking, Eren could tell, and the soft pinch reached his eyes as they indirectly angled his eye lids. 

The second read seemed to appease Rivaille. The slight drop in his temperature brought him relief, and he grabbed a towel to wrap around Eren. Water off, and Eren now standing outside the tub, Rivaille patted him dry. The attention itself had Eren on cloud nine. He was silently thankful he wasn’t feeling well, otherwise, he was sure, he would have poked Rivaille’s eyes out the second he crouched down to dry off his legs. 

“Jean gave me your number today at the coffee shop. Have you eaten at all today? Please tell me you had enough sense to drink plenty of water?”

“Honestly? I’ve been sleeping… Wait, you saw Jean? H-He gave you my number? What did he say?”

“What the hell are you getting jumpy about Jaeger? Don’t fret over details. Come on,” he tugged on the towel he had just wrapped around the brat’s waist, “We need to get you dressed and back into bed. Do you have any aspirin?”

“I don’t… I ran out a while ago and forgot to pick up more.”

Rivaille led him back into the bedroom, and Eren opened up his walk-in closet door to grab a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. He tugged them on rather quickly as Rivaille stood in the center of the room. It was strange how self-conscious he felt at being nude in front of the shorter male, all things considered. The last time he had been nude in front of Rivaille… well…

“Why are you running an air-conditioner this time of year?”

Being jarred, thankfully, from his traveling thoughts Eren blinked, making his way over and plopping down on his mattress once more. He was a little shocked as Rivaille took it upon himself to help tuck him back in, but the shock faded quickly into, near glee, as he was fawned over. He should get sick more often.

“Mikasa likes turning the temperature up, and I prefer it cool so… this is kind of a compromise.”

Rivaille nodded but frowned at his window, or more specifically the running air conditioner. Eren watched him, a bit puzzled, as Rivaille got up on his bed to examine it. What the hell was so fascinating about his a/c? 

“It doesn’t smell right….,” Rivaille turned off the machine and pulled out the filter. 

“What do you…? Oh…”

“Oh is right, fuck Eren, when’s the last time you replaced this filter?”

Rivaille hopped off the bed and tossed the black mold infested filter in the trash can, “Are you trying to kill yourself in your sleep?” 

Eren flushed, completely embarrassed. He hadn’t even thought to check the filter before he put the air conditioner in the window yesterday. He had just dug the stupid thing out from storage, no longer being able to tolerate Mikasa’s tropical temperature setting, and popped it in the window without a second thought. 

With another exaggerated sigh, Rivaille brushed back Eren’s bangs and pressed his forehead to the brunette’s. 

“I’m going to run to the store,” he says after a pause, “If you start feeling to hot again check your temperature and hop in for another cold shower if it’s too warm.”

He pulls back and begins to move off the bed. Eren catches his hand before he does and offers a soft thank you, blush never leaving his cheeks. Rivaille isn’t sure whether it’s from the fever or not but which ever it is, he finds it, and curse himself for the thought, adorable. This brat was going to be the end of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy fluff..... so I wanted them to get further along in their relationship - something that WILL happen in the next chapter without fail ~ ! The next chapter for this series will bring us right back to the beginning! We'll find out exactly how Eren almost ended up as a butt puppet and get into establishing some Riren/Ereri <3 
> 
> Till next time and as always thank you!!!!!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty guys - I am right off the bat going to apologize ( yet again ) I have To Exist and a band!snk prompt started -- I will get there -- but in the meantime I just randomly thought of writing out a short chapter for this fic -- 
> 
> Don't be too sad -- theres no Rivaille in this one -- I still owe you guys What happened at the party~ and with no Rivaille being in this chapter... you know i'll certainly be making up for it next time he appears <3 
> 
> For now ~ Please enjoy this and I'll do my best to get my ass into gear

“I still don’t get why you called me, Eren.”

Eren sniffed his nose still runny, congestion evident in his muffled tone, “I’m starting to question why myself.”

Jean huffed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. The smell of hot cocoa did little for him at the moment, cup abandoned on the table in front of him. He glared back at Eren, who still showed signs of his near death fever, but nowhere near severe. 

His nose and cheeks still slightly pink, matching hue also tinging the tips of his ears. His hair was a mess, lopsided and pressed to one side, clearly the case of bed head he was sporting suggested he slept on his left side and all but smothered his scalp into his pillow. 

Eren sniffed again, pulling the fleece throw blanket over his shoulders tighter to him with his left while sipping at his own cocoa in his right. The feeble glare, eyes slightly hooded from drowsiness or whatever the hell was currently fucking with his immune system, only brought one begrudged word to Jean’s mind.

‘Cute.’

Jean coughed off the awkward thought and tried to sit a littler straighter, correcting his posture and opting for a glare of his own. 

“Well, I’m here,” he stressed the word to let Eren know, if he hadn’t already made it clear enough, that he did not want to deal with his baggage, “So spill. What did you, oh so desperately, need MY advice?”

Eren, looked off to the side and chewed at his lip, sending a side words glance back at Jean. He began to bring his mug to his mouth but paused mid-way. He, instead, dropped his hand back at chest level, holding a little too tightly on the handle of the mug for a brief moment and muttered in a hushed tone. 

“It’s about Rivaille.”  
Jean, found himself, all of a sudden, unconvinced that the lingering cold was to blame for Eren’s blushing cheeks. With a groan he reached for his own mug to take a sip, if for nothing else, to stop his mouth from getting them into another of their, immature, verbal battles.

Eren continued to nurse his mug in silence. Self-consciousness ebbing away at even having this conversation. It was strange to him. He could go hot and cold in a heartbeat, and usually the main cause had been Rivaille. Though to be honest, he had always been that way to some extent. 

Eren found he could be the outgoing guy that involves everyone in a conversation or he could be the shy guy in the corner avoiding any and all human interaction like it was an infectious disease. He could be the coordinated sports star or the discombobulated klutzy clown. Other times, he could be bold, confident and forthcoming, and in contrast, very much like he felt right now, he was unsure, nervous, and hesitant. 

“Hey. I can’t read your mind ass. Are you going to ask me for my infinite wisdom or you just going to sit there ignoring me, drinking your hot chocolate?”

Eren pulled his head down as much as he could and spoke into his blanket too soft for Jean to catch, “I’m entertaining that idea actually.”

“What’s that? Come on, speak up already would ya?” 

“I said,” Eren’s muffled voice became clearer as he lifted his head, at least as clear as his nasal passage would allow, “Relax, I’m getting to it.”

Jean raised a brow as if to point out the obvious. That, whatever the hell he muffled into his blanket earlier, sounded nothing like what he just said, but didn’t bother to press the issue. 

“So what is it about the troll that got you so upset you had to ask me for advice?”

Eren blinked and clapped his mouth shut as soon as he opened it before attempting to speak again.  
“Troll? I don’t get it… Is that what you’re calling him now? I thought Rivaille had some odd nicknames for you, but at least you actually resemble a horse.” 

Jean blanched, trying his damnedest not t, stand up, walk over, and dump his hot chocolate in his ‘friends’ lap.

“Who the hell are you saying resembles a fucking horse? The hell man?” 

“You do have a long face and narrow chin,” Eren pointed out with a sniffle and a smirk. 

He looked far to cheeky for his disheveled appearance, the effects of his cold making him look more like a 13 year old who was just snatched a twenty from his parents wallet and was making his way to the candy store. 

Jean just groaned as he slumped back against the chair and tried to defend his case with a few over exaggerated waves of his hand in the air. 

“A troll, you know. Those short little dolls with the bright colored hair. You could part their hair in half and slick it down. Their faces were creepy as fuck right? So… did I mention how small they were?” 

Now that he actually thought about it, it was a piss poor comparison. Trying to state his case only made it that much more, painfully apparent.

“Alright, alright. I can come up with something better.” 

“Sure.”

With a chuckle from Eren, Jean covered his face with both hands, elbows high in the air as he leaned back against the chair.

“Forget it. Whatever. Christ. Just, ask me your damned question already.”  
Eren fought back a cough, eyes wandering off again to anything in the room other than the boy sitting across from him. He brought his mug to his mouth and let his teeth clink against the ceramic as if to chew it before sighing and focusing his gaze down to the milky liquid. 

“I…,” Eren started and stopped with a frown, brow following suit as he grumbled and sniffed before scrubbing at his nose with his forearm roughly, “I don’t even know where to start.” 

Jean groaned as if in agony, “For the love of… Don’t you dare say you’ll start at the beginning! I’m not willing to listen to you drone on for the next hour about your precious ‘Leeeeeeviiiiiiiiii’”

“Fine, dick, I’ll just come out and say it then!” 

Jean rolled his eyes and sat forward, eyes closed as he swung his hands to his sides dramatically.

“About ti-…..”

Without letting him finish Eren continued, “I want to have sex with Rivaille.”

His arms fell to his sides like lead, his fingers snapping against the wood of the chair he sat in, but couldn’t seem to get the wide eyed and dropped to the side jaw to make any indication it hurt. 

“Wow, wow dude. Really? Like, that much is obvious. Did you really need to say it, the fucking images are…. just,” Jean pretended to gag. 

Eren felt himself blush but none the less felt like shifting the discomfort right back to Jean for his childish response.

“You know I’d probably make that same sound with his dick in my mouth.”

Jean’s face fell, slapping a palm over his face to hide the red burning at his cheeks. ‘Fucking prick.’ 

The thought of what Eren would sound like entertained itself in his mind, but he quickly stomped out the thought. Eren knew, he knew, how to get him flustered. He knew that, though he would never toss around the idea of any kind of relationship with the brunette other than platonic, he still found him attractive. You’d have to be blind not to be, but that didn’t mean he wanted to act on that in any way, shape, or form. It was just, sometimes Eren would fuck with him and plant the idea in his head, just because he knew he could. And for the simple fact that it always shut him up, much like it was now.

“Fuck you Eren, just ask me what you wanted to so I can go home.” 

Eren shuffled in his seat, all too pleased with himself before continuing, playful mood shifting once again back to the topic at hand, “I can’t figure him out. I mean, the night he handed your ass to you- “

“Eren…,” Jean warned, not too happy to recall that nights events.

Eren just smiled as if to say, ‘what is it Jean?’ in complete unabashed ignorance. 

Rolling his eyes for the umpteenth time, he set his arms on the table and crossed them. Lowering his chin into his folded arms, he tried not to pout, “Continue.”

“That night I ended up at his place, and you know… One thing led to another and he…”

Jean raised one of his hands to silence Eren and mustered the best glare he could, “Spare me the details, please.” 

Eren chuckled, scratching the side of his head with his index, “Right… Well, here’s the thing though. He wouldn’t let me do anything.”

“Fuck’s sake dude, didn’t I say no details? I don’t want to hear about that midget taking charge and shit.”

“No-No-No,” Eren rushed out, “That’s not what I meant. Well, kind of… He certainly did take charge and…,” at the face Jean pulled, Eren steered himself back on track before he could be interrupted again.

“He told me he wouldn’t let me do anything to him. Not while I was drinking or whatever, and I wasn’t even drunk!”

“Ah, how noble.”

“Yeah,” Eren said with a soft smile. 

Jean had to admit, despite his sarcastic tone and his distaste for the older male, he didn’t seem as much of an asshole as he made himself out to be. He was a total dick sure, and he personally did not care for him that much, but he could respect Rivaille at least a bit. If for nothing else, the simple fact that he had taken such good care of Eren, on multiple occasions. It was really the only reason he bothered to give Rivaille Eren’s number. Reluctant as he was to say Rivaille was a great guy, he certainly earned some points in his book for not taking complete advance of Eren. 

Or at least it seemed, not allowing Eren himself to do anything he might later regret. 

“So anyway,” Eren’s smile linger as he used, now, both his hands to nurse his cup.

“Since then we haven’t really been… well, intimate at all.”

“Ho? Maybe he was repulsed by your dick Eren. He seems like a neat freak, maybe he just wants you to trim better.” 

“You’d have to keep hair to trim it Jean,” Eren freed his hands, setting the mug down, to motion over his lap as if it were the holy grail, face completely flat, “I wax, my shit’s smooth.”

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ. I didn’t need to know that.”

“You brought it up,” Eren wiggled his brows, though his expression was still one of non-amusement, “You curious now?”

“Like hell I am,” Jean flicked him off, before burying his head into his arms again, “Just fucking ask what you wanted to ask me, this is getting ridiculous. Get to the point.”

This time Eren laughed whole heartedly, happy just to get a rise from his friend. Subsequently, it threw him into a small coughing fit. Without bothering to ask, Jean stood up to grab a cup and fill it with water. Setting it down and plopping his ass back in his own chair, Eren gratefully took a couple gulps and cleared his throat with a small apology which was quickly followed by a thank you. 

“Try not to die,” Jean offered before glancing off to the side, “So you guys aren’t intimate. I get that much, so….” 

“So,” Eren picked up where Jean drawled off, “I’m just at a loss at how to approach him.”

“And you think I, of all people, would know?” 

“Pull the plug out of your ass Jean, I’m just asking what you would do,” Eren bit back before taking a breath and continuing. 

“Rivaille’s not the easiest guy to read, sometimes I can see it clear as day, but lately… I’m just… I dunno, it’s just frustrating. Being persistent in getting to know him is one thing, but I don’t want to be aggressive to the point of him either pushing me back or giving in either.” 

Jean nodded as if he understood crystal clear, to an extent he could see Eren’s point of view, but it was strange to image Eren even remotely being… Reluctant? Docile? Whatever the word to describe it, it was seemingly uncharacteristic. The guy he knew to be forward, determined, spontaneous, short-tempered, and aggressive was now just flopping on deck like a fish out of water. 

To be fair, Rivaille is an intimidating guy. Perhaps Eren’s brazen personality could only go so far when dealing with the height challenged male. 

Jean nodded to himself at his own conclusion. Now that he identified that tit bit, he was completely at a loss as to how to correct this issue. Rivaille was fairly had to approach, trying to jump his bones would probably be fairly detrimental to any progress Eren might want to have…. Progress….

“So, this guy. Are you serious about him or do you just want to hook up with him?”

Eren stared at him blankly, “Jean.”

“What? How am I supposed to know? I’m not asking to be a jerk… this time,” he added for clarity. 

“I’m serious. I don’t want to just fuck around, for the sake of screwing.”

“Then just talk to him then.”

“Talk to him,” Eren said skeptically, “It’s not that easy to just, ‘Hey by the way, what’s up with us any who? Wanna be my boyfriend? You wanna get frisky?’” 

Jean actually laughed, “So I know you weren’t serious, but hey maybe you should use that line. It’s fucking gold.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“You wish.” 

“Nooooooooooope. I’d let my dick fall off before I let that happen.”

Ouch.

“Anyway, douche,” he stressed that insult with a pointed look.

“Just, do something to get his attention, something that will make him focus directly on you and spit out whatever sappy bull shit you need to, to figure out what’s going on.”

The corner of the brunette’s lip pulled in concentration for a moment as he thought over the simple piece of advice. He supposed it would be the only real way to do it. Rivaille, for certain, would not brooch the topic on his own, and he hadn’t made direct advances. Their conversations were certainly easier, he could tell him company was more appreciated, and he more than noticed the protective soft spot Rivaille had developed for him. 

“Yeah… alright. I can do that.” 

Jean rolled his eyes and stood from his chair, pushing it back where it belonged, “Right, or you won’t and you’ll be a virgin forever.” 

“Who said I was a virgin dick?” 

“Ass virgin, Rivaille virgin, whatever. Either way, I’m headed over to Marco’s.” 

Eren hummed, nodding as he made the lewd motion of his left index penetrating the ‘O’ he formed with his right, “Marco huh?” 

Jean blanched, turning scarlet from his neck to the tips of his ears, his voice squeaking on a decibel way too high to come from a male, “Fuck you Eren. Knock that off.” 

Eren only chuckled and obliged. Before Jean, who was muttering angrily about assholes and never helping them out ever again, shoved on his shoes and bolted out the door, Eren spoke up.

“About giving Rivaille my number, I wanted to thank you, for that too.”

Jean let a small smile slip through, “So I assume he called?” 

“Yeah,” Eren smiled, moving from his chair to stand in the entryway between the living room and kitchen, “Yeah, he did. He actually has been stopping by to check up on me. Says something along the lines of, ‘If I let you die you’ll end up releasing your last heaping pile of shit and even Mikasa doesn’t deserve to clean that up.’”

“Who even thinks of shit like that?”

With a shrug of his shoulders Eren dumbly replied, “Rivaille, of course.” 

“Of course,” Jean shook his head but smiled despite himself, “Just make sure you talk to him.”

Eren grinned, waving Jean off and thanking him once more. He had to think things through. Really nail down, what and how to say what needed to be said. But first and foremost, he needed to kick the remainder of his lingering cold.


	4. Chapter 4

New Year’s Eve was the day new promises were made for the upcoming year. Good intentions of dieting, exercising, finding love, indulging less, caring more, and overall becoming a better person, with a better lifestyle. It was a night to countdown to the next stage in a person’s life.   
Promises would be made. Love would be shared. Hope would be spread. Cheer and fun and laughs and drinks.  
A new year. A new fresh start…

Or in Rivaille’s mind, a fresh pile of shit to walk in. What the fuck is up with all the cheesy romance movies and forfeiting sleep to see a ball of lights drop down to signal the change in date? 

And why… in name of Baby Jesus’s shitty diaper was Eren sitting in his living room preparing to do just that?   
“Rivaille! Come on the movie will start soon!”

He scowled, restraining himself as best he could not to slam the refrigerator shut with a brutal kick from his foot. Two glasses of wine and a plate of grapes and cheese, compliments of the brunette dunce sitting on his couch this very moment, balanced in his hands as he crossed into the living room and took a seat. 

“That’s why there’s a pause button on the remote dip shit.” 

Eren, ever the optimist, ignored his rude comment, just as he always did, and taunted Rivaille without a care in the world. Tapping the tip of the raven’s nose with his pointer, Eren’s eyes crinkled in delight. 

“How can you be so grumpy on New Year’s Eve?” 

“How can you not?” 

The quick response earned his a small chuckle but otherwise the glare he sent did little to intimidate the brunette. An infuriating fact that left him pouting, indignantly, over his glass of wine. 

Eren plucked a piece of cheese off the plate and popped it in his mouth. Bold as ever, he snatched a grape from its vine and made an elongated ‘Ah’ sound as he directed it towards Rivaille’s lips.

“I don’t want it.” 

Stubborn as he were, Eren ignored him again. Instead of heeding his warning, he pressed it against his sealed lips and smiled. 

“Sure you do!” 

“mno mey dunot.” 

“What’s that?” 

“mo mey dount” 

“Rivaille, I really can’t understand a word you’re saying,” Eren complained as he relented the grape just a bit to allow him to speak.

“I said…N-,” The grape was, ever so eloquently, shoved into his mouth and silenced him.

“See! Tasty right?”

His eyebrows creased as he set his glare back on Eren. Maybe if he stared long enough the kid would catch on fire.   
No… wait….. He didn’t want that.  
After all, Eren was sitting on his couch; he’d ruin the upholstery. 

“You’re lucky my couch would get ruined.” 

Eren blinked, and had his mood not been so sour he’d find it comical. 

“Never mind, start your shitty film so we can get this over with.”

Eren complied with a wide smile, as if the raven had eagerly asked for him to start the DVD. 

‘Oh yes Eren! I can’t wait to watch these two idiots such face after only just meeting each other! It’s obvious they’re truly madly and deeply in love! How can they not live happily ever after in their shitty New York apartment that costs four times too much for ten times the less space? Brilliant! They should get married and have a little shit machine to toot around the house! It would be the perfect ending!’   
Fat. Fucking. Chance.

An hour into the movie and he was convinced he would need to either pluck his eyes out or swallow battery acid. Is this really what people believed was an ideal love story? Ridiculous. 

Throughout the movie thus far, he happened to notice something interesting; intriguing really. Of course, it had nothing to do with the movie what so ever, but with Eren. 

He would catch Eren, out of the corner of his eye, staring over and biting his lip. And every time he turned to face him, to get him to speak, the brunette’s head would jerk back into place and make a lame commentary on the movie thus far. 

‘Wasn’t this scene just great?’ 

No, no it fucking wasn’t Eren. 

After what felt like the hundredth time, he’d had enough. Reaching for the remote and pausing it he turned to Eren and stared him down for answers.  
“Aw! Rivaille, why’d you do that? It was getting good.” 

“Getting good….,” he rolled out the sentence slowly off his tongue, “Are we even watching the same thing?” 

“It’s not that bad.” 

“It really is.”

No hesitation; immediate and final. Rivaille was leaving no room for argument, this was a terrible film. A complete waste of production budget. The stare down didn’t last long before the brunette caved.

“Ok, so it’s not that good….” 

“It’s not good at all.” 

“It could be improved.”

“No Eren. This movie is shit.” 

With a laugh and an awkward scratch behind his head Eren relented, “Ok. Alright. The movie sucks.” 

“You haven’t been watching it anyway.” 

The accusation caused Eren to still in his movements. Slowly lowering his hands to his lap as he looked off to the paused screen.

“I have…” 

“Eren, you’ve been staring at me and biting your lip as if you were constipated for weeks. What the hell is it you want to ask?” 

And there it was. Rivaille was too keen on him nowadays for Eren to brush him off. He could see through him easily; worse yet, even more so since his conversation with Jean. It was as if all his secrecy and tact had been exposed and shed. 

As he thought back to that conversation he silently pondered whether or not he should just spill. Take Jean’s advice like he said he would and ask. Put it all on the table and hope for the best. All of nothing.

But the nothing was frightening, even for him. 

“Have you ever… thought back to that night?” 

Rivaille raised a brow, a look of irritation crossing the curl of his lips. 

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific Eren. I’ve had many nights. Nights watching movies that stink of shit. Nights I was ‘allowed’ to sleep at a decent hour. Nights where my mouth wasn’t assaulted by grapes. Nights spent on the toilet.”

“Ok. Ok,” Eren stopped him, but not once making eye contact as he pressed his left thumb between his right and pointer of his right. 

“I was talking about… the night we came back to your place… after the bar,” he added as the brow continued to defy logic and raise higher in a condescending manner.

“That night… what did it mean to you?”

“What are you on about? I think that movie screwed with your head.” 

His expression had softened but Rivaille honestly hadn’t a clue what he was referring to. It wasn’t rare these days to have Eren come stay at his place after a round of drinks. As a matter of fact, it became quite habitual as of late. 

Unless…

Unless he meant…..

With a sigh, Eren cut off his thought process and spoke before he had the chance. 

“I spoke with Jean not too long ago… for advice.”

“That seems like a horrible idea.” 

Eren rolled his eyes with a small smile and agreed with a huff of laughter, “I know right…” 

When he didn’t continue he figured Eren might lose his nerve if he didn’t press it. He didn’t want to assume, nor did he want to be the first one to say it. And to be honest with himself, he wasn’t even sure he was quite prepared for this conversation at all. 

Eren had wormed his way from nuisance to enigma in a quite short span of time. Something clicked between them, he knew, but he wasn’t sure, not entirely at least, on how to handle it. Even now, this overwhelming need to protect Eren conflicted with how he felt and what those feelings urged him to want to do. 

“Perhaps you shouldn’t take it then.” 

Rivaille suggested, hoping to narrowly escape this situation. The blurred line between them worked, aside from the sexual tension he’d never admit to, but for Eren’s sake, for his sake… No… was it for that reason? 

Or was he just afraid? Was he just continuing to make excuses for himself as he had done from the beginning? 

“I won’t then.” 

Relief. Disappointment. 

He couldn’t decide which emotion prevailed over the other. 

“Great, now can we find something else to watch I won’t sit through another minute of-…” 

Without warning, Eren had crawled closer to him on the couch. One knee pressed into the cushion as the other kept to the ground as he leaned forward. 

“What are you..?” 

Rivaille swallowed as his eyes followed the hand that reached for the back of his neck. The firm grip pulling him closer despite his weak attempt to hold himself in place as Eren’s lips came dangerously close to his. 

“He told me to talk to you… but I can’t find the words. I don’t know what to say.” 

The moist air hit his lips and he instinctively parted his lips to lick over the flesh. When had his eyes dropped to look at Eren’s mouth anyway, and why the hell did he have such a power over him. He was caught in limbo. Not sure whether to move closer or keep the distance. To kiss him or push him away. Perhaps both. Perhaps just shove him and claim his lips, but he refrained. 

Whatever it was Eren wanted to say, to do, it was his time. Rivaille needed to keep himself reigned in. 

“If I can’t get it across to you in that way… with words,” his lips were closing in. 

Closer, warmer. Each breath of air hitting his lips stopping Rivaille from taking his.

“Perhaps I can get through to you this way.” 

With the soft murmur of those last words the distance closed. Their lips met and Eren did his damnest to take control of his. Take control of this situation and of Rivaille himself. And despite the hand Rivaille pressed against Eren’s chest to stop him from doing so, he found he couldn’t push him away. 

Eren easily redirected it by twining his fingers around his wrist. Gently pulling away the appendage, his opposite hand dropped from his neck and down his shoulder and arm to his other wrist. Pinning them both at his sides, Eren moves closer. His body closing in on Rivaille’s as the world seems to shift and he finds himself pressed with his back against the cushions and his head barely clearing the arm rest. 

The gasp of surprise leaves him open for Eren’s wandering tongue and before he can protest, come up with some lame reason why they shouldn’t be doing this, Eren enjoys the sanctity of his mouth. A lap of a tongue over the roof of his mouth makes him shiver, as Eren’s body presses into his and he thinks that letting Eren have this moment of control isn’t so bad. 

Not with the way his hips begin to rock against his and his fingers tighten around his wrist as Eren begins to fall short of breath; obviously getting aroused. Though he can’t say he’s any better. 

There no excuse in the world he could come up with to play off why, exactly, his own tongue moves to Eren’s and his own hips move against the brunette’s. He’s playing right into his hand and he enjoys it. The peaking of his own growing erection is evidence enough of this and through the haze of his mind, he can’t for the life of him figure out how things escalated so quickly. 

How, as Eren’s mouth detaches from his to claim his neck with a particular roll of his hips, they managed to slip from watching some piss poor romance jumbled diarrhea on disc, to dry fucking on his couch, but he honestly couldn’t care at this point over the details. 

Not with Eren’s weight on his. Not with Eren’s groin rubbing against his, blocked by the layers of fabric between them that kept him wondering just how different it would feel without the friction of their jeans or the hard seam of their zippers, just heated flesh hard against each other. 

It had been so long ago, yet he still tries to recall how he tasted. If Eren’s tongue were as skillful as it were as it was than because it seemed oh so much more so now. 

Moans, panting and tiny admissions.

‘I want you.’ 

‘I want to have you.’ 

‘I want to be with you.’ 

It made his chest swell and his abdomen knot, or perhaps the abdomen was his cocks fault. He couldn’t know, his body was overloaded, rutting up against Eren’s a bit more desperate as they came closer and closer to the edge. Like some score of virgin teenagers dry humping to completion, a cry of Rivaille’s name off Eren’s lips pushed him over as well. 

“I meant it… I mean it Rivaille.” 

 

The air between them was hot, and thin, and his head felt light and woozy. He wasn’t at all prepared for Eren to start straight back into talking again.

The most tactful response he could manage was an exhausted huff of a ‘huh’.

“For a while now…. I’ve… I want to be with you.” 

Rivaille swallowed, shifting a bit uncomfortable with Eren’s weight still on top of him and the sticky sensation he was itching to wash off, soiling his boxers and jeans.

“You are with me.” 

“You know what I mean,” Eren pressed a bit firmer this time.

“And if I don’t?” 

“I’ve fallen for you,” he lets out breathlessly and before he loses his nerve he continues, “I love you.” 

Rivaille clicks his tongue to hide the blush that seems to want to seep to his cheeks.

“You really have watched too many of these damn movies.” 

“That’s not quite the response I was expecting,” Eren teases, but he doesn’t seem in the least put off and it sort of irks Rivaille in a way.   
“Were you expecting some kind of romantic line from me,” he asks with a raised brow.

And Eren just answers with his own, the nervousness creeping back into his voice as he pushes for an answer.   
“Perhaps not that much… but I was hoping for some kind of reconciliation.” 

Rivaille looks away from the green eyes boring into his own, releasing a short breath as he feels the anxious twitch of Eren’s fingers against his wrist. Does he deny himself still or does he reciprocate? Was it even possible any more to delay what seemed inevitable?   
“And what did you have in mind exactly then?” 

He doesn’t look back. He doesn’t face him. He doesn’t want to look back to the kid he saved from the shower; the one who followed him, practically stalked all this time, the one who now was pressed on top of him, sending his heart into a frenzy. 

“Become mine,” Rivaille looked to him at the corner of his eyes and Eren finished with a warming smile, “Let me become yours.” 

When he doesn’t answer Eren seems to deflate a bit, his shoulders slump and Rivaille doesn’t waste any more time to let him have his mind wander. Reaching up he presses Eren’s head to his chest and threads his fingers through his hair. 

“You’re already mine Eren. If you hadn’t noticed you’ve been my responsibility since I pulled you out of that damned tub.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” Eren whispered breathlessly, knowing full well what he did mean. 

Looking off to the side he chuckled wanting to shake his head as he saw the time on the clock.   
“If it weren’t you I’d swear you’d planned this.” 

“Huh?”

“Happy New Years Eren.” 

Sure enough, Eren looked off to the side and nearly broke out in laughter. Happier than he’d ever remembered being. 

“Happy New Years Rivaille.”

**Author's Note:**

> P S These Titles..... I'm not so creative I know That aside I hope this wasn't too disappointing for a chapter I'm hoping to work on To Exist next and jumping back onto MINE before returning to the next part of this series ( I'm thinking we can bring Jean back in for some more entertainment -- )
> 
> Ah, and last but not least ! ~ Let me know if you guys have any requests for this series - You can message me here or on Tumblr ~ http://xoxstrifexox.tumblr.com/ (￣▽￣)ノ bye bye for now


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